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CW: This story features some __questionable _ consent and a particular brand of hypnosis/mind-fuckery that involves taking advantage of the protagonist's trauma. As much as I love having my stuff read, if those things don't sound like your cup of tea, you may want to turn back now._

---

The Shallows of the Black Citadel lived up to their reputation as a place of gloom and misery. The din of grinding machinery and dark clouds of black smoke were a constant backdrop, courtesy of the scrapyard that overlooked the run-down neighborhood from the level above. Large pipes, caked with thick grime and soot, snaked down from the junkyard's furnace, breaking up the monotony of rusted metal huts and run-down tents.

The charr ranger Feilan scowled and wrinkled his nose as the place's offensive stench--a mixture of gas, smoke, mildew, and musk--overwhelmed his feline sense of smell. He was only two steps into Gladium Canton and already hated it. He didn't want to be here, at the bottom rung of the city, constantly subject to the scornful glares that charr reserved for gladia. Even with his entire warband wiped out, he would much rather have been in the wilds of Ascalon, hunting down Flame Legion alongside his trusted white tiger companion, Kreon. The Black Citadel, however, had its rules--as his guard escort was so keen to keep reminding him. Gladia like him were to live in The Shallows, far from the action and farther still from honor... unless they were fortunate enough to find a new warband willing to take in strays.

Feilan was dimly aware of his guard escort talking about the other options available to gladia--joining up with the Vigil or one of the other orders--but such alternatives carried little interest to the hunter. He had no desire to scurry away from the Citadel, fighting battles against whichever random foes or doing whichever random jobs. His prey was here, in Ascalon, hiding in the Flame Legion's citadel atop the ashes of his late comrades.

"...that's about it," the guard said. The armored charr clapped Feilan on the shoulder, and the hunter resisted the urge to claw the guard's look of pity off his face. "Stay strong. I'll see you around."

---

For all of its filth, stench, and general unpleasantness, The Shallows did, at least, have one merciful vestige of civilization: a tiny bar, nestled underneath a weathered tarp between two rusted buildings. The bartender--a striped charr with matted fur, a broken horn, and a crude scar over one eye--was a cat of few words, preferring to communicate through grunts and growls. This was just fine with Feilan. The hunter wasn't looking to make friends, and words weren't necessary to serve up a decent mug of ale.

It took three such mugs before another patron entered the bar, a flash of honey-colored fur popping up at the edge of Feilan's vision. It brought to mind the image of a charr with golden eyes and a similar shade of fur, laughing around their usual table at the tavern alongside the rest of their warband. Chara--she and Feilan had spent a lot of time together, sparring and getting into contests of archery, amongst other things. Feilan's mouth curled ever-so-slightly upward as scenes flashed through his head of their many contests; of her standing atop a bar table, roaring out a Metal Legion song in a grating voice that would've made Feilan's ears bleed had it not been so hilariously terrible; of her fumbling and falling over him as they staggered back to their warband's canton, followed by her falling over him in ways that were far more intentional.

The hunter's faint smile disappeared a second later as all those memories were followed by another one. The sounds of battle, the smell of ash and blood. Blades clattering as Feilan and his warband fought through a line of Flame Legion soldiers, the twang of his and Chara's bows. The laugh of a Flame Legion shaman as he raised flaming hands above an iron cauldron, a flash of heat and light, and a glimpse of Chara's wide eyes as she was consumed by the surge of flames. Feilan's grip around his mug tightened as he clenched his teeth, the echoes of his friends' screams still haunting the back of his mind.

The newcomer sat at the stool to Feilan's left. "Whiskey," she growled. "Ash Legion. Neat." That, too, reminded Feilan of Chara--she'd always had a taste for the stuff.

The bartender answered the newcomer with a grunt, then gave Feilan a similar response as the hunter tapped his empty mug. The hunter gave the man a nod as the barkeep slid across a fresh mug.

Before Feilan could resume staring down into his drink, he noticed the newcomer looking in his direction. At a second glance, she didn't look quite as close to Chara--they had similar honey-gold fur, but the stranger lacked Chara's stripes, and instead had a large patch of dark brown, almost black fur around her shoulders and back. Her horns were different too--twisted rather than straight--but most noticeable was the writing tattooed into the stranger's fur. It was on her lower leg, with an arrow pointing to her footpaw: "Your Head Here." The hunter's gaze returned upward just in time to spot a brief smirk on her muzzle.

Feilan growled. "The hell you looking at?"

The stranger took a long sip of her whiskey. "A pup who hasn't learned his place."

The hunter slammed his mug down on the counter as he stood up. "Wanna say that again, runt?"

She didn't even look at him as she downed the rest of her drink. "Why, you lose your hearing when you lost your warband?"

"You don't know shit about me. Get lost."

The stranger burst into rasping laughter. "I know you're a gladium. A coward that didn't have the sense to die alongside your warband. And judging by that attitude, a relatively new one, too."

Her glass shattered as Feilan knocked it off the counter. He snarled and lunged at her, but his claws only found air as he passed through her, her visage shattering into a glitter of purple magic. Shit--a mesmer--

Her hand was already on the back of his head, slamming his muzzle into the counter, her other hand keeping his arm twisted behind his back. From this angle, the gladium could get a good look at her armored robes--and the iron sigil atop them that marked the rank of legionnaire.

"It's all still fresh in your brain," the legionnaire continued. "You're angry, think it all revolves around you. That you're going to be the one to put that bastard Gaheron's head on a pike." Her breath brushed over his cheek as she leaned next to his ear. "You're not special, pup. Hundreds of gladia here wanted the same thing, just as badly as you. And just like the rest of them, you're going to waste away here, wanting revenge all by your lonesome."

"Shut the fuck up," Feilan, squirming against her grasp. "I'm gonna rip all those Flame bastards into pieces--"

"You're not gonna do shit but growl in his pit. Know why? Because you're too damn stubborn, too damn scared to find a new warband and make it fucking happen."

"I already have a warband--"

"Yeah, and they're dead." She pulled backward, hurling the other charr across the room and into a table. "Wanna fight the Flame Legion with a bunch of ghosts, or with a living 'band who're just as pissed as you?"

Feilan grunted as her foot found and pressed down on his chest, the tattoo on it more prominent than ever. The position gave him a good look up her robes--and at the lack of any other clothing underneath. The scent of a female in heat filled his nostrils, and despite how infuriating the bitch was, he felt his arousal building. He grit his teeth as he forced his eyes--and his mind--to focus on anything else. He pictured the shaman that torched his warband, that torched Chara.

Rage brought with it its own brand of blind clarity, and Feilan mulled over the arrogant charr's words. Irritating or not, she was still a legionnaire, and all charr knew that offers to join a warband were hard to come by for gladia. It would never be the same as his old warband, he knew that much, but it was the quickest path to getting back to the field, to hunting down every last one of those Flame Legion scumbags.

"You offering?" he asked.

She laughed. "If the rest of the 'band likes you." Her foot pressed harder as she leaned down towards him. "But don't worry about that. I'll teach you how to get on their good side." Her paw reached towards Feilan's head, but by the time he noticed the purple glow shimmering around the mesmer's hand, it was already touching the side of his head, and his mind went somewhere else.

---

"Oh, fuck yeah, Feilan."

The voice--and the warmth around his cock--were both Chara's. Feilan gasped as his longtime more-than-friend slammed her hips down with a force that only charr--and maybe the occasional norn--could appreciate. He could hear and feel her quick and shallow breaths as her muzzle brushed along the side of his head. Fangs closed around his ear, then rumbled with a growl that slowly shifted into a purr.

"Ah, Chara--" His hands reached for her waist, then froze as he felt the pinch of her talons as they pressed against his fur--not deep enough to draw blood, but deep enough to get across the reminder that they could, at any moment of her choosing. His arms fell limp as a high-pitched sound--one more suited to an asura or skritt--slipped from his muzzle, and his ear vibrated with her deep chuckle.

"That's right, good boy," she whispered, both felines moaning as she clenched around him. "Just lay there like a dumb mutt and let me use you."

Those two phrases echoed through Feilan's lust-muddled head. A small voice in the back of his head screamed at him. Something wasn't right--while he and Chara had experimented plenty together, this particular flavor wasn't among them. Not that he hadn't thought of it; he'd dreamed of something along these lines once or twice, but they'd never quite gotten around to it before... before she was gone.

The voice screamed louder. He knew the legionnaire back in Gladium Canton was a mesmer, and the limits of those sorcerers' mind-magic was something they kept close to their chests. None of this scene was real; it was her magic, manipulating him, worming its way into the darkest parts of his brain to do who-knows-what. Fight, it yelled at him, push back!

Feilan brought his paws up towards her chest, willing himself to push Chara off. The feeling of her fur was just as he remembered--warm, with a softness that he loved to tease her about. The strength fled from his arms, and instead of pushing her off, his hands traveled along her chest, relishing that familiar, comfortable sensation.

She moaned at his touch, and then it was her turn for her paws to explore. One found his neck, gently closing around it, while the other pinched his rear. He mewled, little more than a kitten in her paws. Her muzzle pressed against his, tongue forcing its way in. He let her, moaning as her hips slammed down, her juices soaking into his fur as she spasmed around him. Her muzzle pulled back, both of them gasping for breath. "Good boy," she purred.

That strange echo around those words was there again, but Feilan no longer cared. He was just happy to be with her; to see her the same way he once had before her visage in his mind was forever tainted by the Flame Legion. She collapsed on top of him, her muzzle nuzzling his head, and he wrapped his arms around her. He held her close, only vaguely aware of the dampness around his eyes that mirrored that around his crotch.

--

Feilan's vision faded to black again, only to be startled awake with a jerk around his neck.

"Come on, puppy!" Chara's voice, again. He was behind her, on all fours, with a rather enviable view of the other feline's tail and a leash running from her paw to the collar around his. She tugged the leash again, and he scrambled after her as she walked forward.

He heard his inner voice again, quieter than before. It was all wrong again; he and Chara had never done this, no matter how much a part of him might have wanted it. He froze, forcing the honey-furred charr ahead of him to stop.

"What's the matter, boy?" She turned around, her paw grabbing the side of his muzzle and forcing it up to look at her.

The hunter stared deep into those golden eyes. They were mischievous, but there was the faintest hint of softness behind them, a hint of concern that he knew would make her stop if he asked her to. He'd never asked her to before, however, and as he sank into her gaze, the voice quieted again. "N-nothing, miss," he said, resuming his crawl behind her. A sharp tug stopped him, Feilan yelping as he lost his balance, sending his head tumbling onto her hindpaw.

"Bad," Chara hissed. "Good dogs don't talk."

Despite the embarrassment--or perhaps because of it--the black-furred charr barked.

"What was that? I couldn't hear."

His muzzle burned as he barked again, louder.

"Good boy."

--

They were in his warband's old barracks, now. Chara was sitting on the edge of her bunk, the leash still in her hand. He was on the ground between her legs, a firm hand on his head guiding his tongue to wherever she wanted it. There was an unfamiliar sensation in his rear, and it took him a moment to realize that it was a plug--one with a tail attached to it, judging by the weight and the fur that brushed against him whenever he moved too much.

He glanced up at the other feline's face. The voice--little more than a whisper now--was calling out something, again, but he couldn't quite make out what it was. He gazed into her emerald eyes--yes, that's right, they always had been an emerald green, hadn't they? Just like that legionnaire at the bar; it was no wonder she'd reminded him of his old friend.

"Yes, that's it," the honey-furred charr said. "Such a good boy, eager for his treat."

The whisper in his head noticed that her voice was different, closer to the mesmer's than Chara's. The rest of him--including all the parts that were in control--were oblivious. He moaned as the hand on his head shoved him deeper into her muff.

--

The barracks, again, though this time, it was the common room. Chara was there again, with her honey-gold fur, black markings, and that familiar tattoo on her leg--she'd always had that, right? This time, the rest of his warband was, too, all of them in various states of undress.

Chara's hand pet the top of his head. "Go on, boy. Show them what a good dog you are." The hand grasped his hair and pushed him between the legs of his old legionnaire--a grey-furred warrior named Marius. Feilan's nostrils filled with the scent of charr cock, and his muzzle followed suit a moment later.

"Got your boy well-trained," Marius said, groaning as the honey-furred feline forced the kneeling charr down the warrior's length. "Yeah, just like that, slut."

Chara's paw was still there, guiding him, but Feilan was already starting to get into a rhythm on his own, bobbing up and down Marius's length. A muffled yelp rang from the hunter's muzzle as the plug in his tailhole was yanked free.

"Screw waiting, I'm taking this end." Feilan couldn't see the speaker, but he recognized the voice as the thief Spurius, another of his old warband. The hunter's eyes widened as he felt a warm, barbed tip prod at his rear, then yelped again as the thief took him from behind.

The plug had at least loosed Feilan up a bit, and it only took a handful of sharp thrusts from the smaller charr behind him before the black-furred charr's yelp was replaced with a stream of gasps and moans.

"Burn me, you're loud," Marius said. There was a tug at Feilan's leash, followed by a tug on his horns as his old legionnaire hilted himself in the hunter's muzzle. Salty, bitter warmth filled Feilan's mouth as the grey-furred charr unloaded in his muzzle, saving the last couple of ropes to mark his fur.

"Good boys swallow." That echoing voice that was almost-but-not-quite Chara's repeated in Feilan's brain. Even though he was unaccustomed to the taste, he did so. After all, he was--as everyone around him was so keen on telling him--a good boy.

That tiny part of his brain whispered to him again. As a new, auburn-furred charr took Marius's place at Feilan's mouth, that tiny voice noted that the newcomer was someone the hunter didn't recognize. And, if he thought about it, the voice of the charr that was so blissfully pounding away at his rear wasn't quite Spurius's voice either; and Marius? Marius's fur had been more of a dark gray, compared to the bluish-gray tones of the charr whose cum he'd just drank.

Feilan made another asura-like squeak as a rough paw smacked his ass. The cock of the auburn-furred charr cut off the sound a moment later as its owner shoved it into the hunter's maw with a tug of his hair. The thrusts of the charr in Feilan's rear grew quicker and more erratic as not-Spurius grunted and growled. "Found a--mmph-- damn good hole, Melia. Oh, fuck"--warmth flooded into the hunter's tailhole--"Shit, 'bout time this 'band got some stress relief."

"Oh, that's nothing," not-Chara's voice replied--Feilan had enough of a view between the auburn-furred charr's legs to see that this Melia/not-Chara was the mesmer legionnaire from earlier. She was lounging on a chair, a paw slowly circling her clit. "You should've seen what was in his head."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"If you runts decide to keep him around, maybe you'll find out."

The conversation was enough for the consciousness in the back of Feilan's head to recognize that the mesmer had done something to his mind. He pulled back from the cock in his muzzle, only to gag as a firm paw shoved him back down onto the hilt. "Yeah, just like that," the auburn-furred charr said as he unloaded in the hunter's mouth. Unlike not-Marius, this charr opted to keep himself hilted in Feilan's maw until the hunter had finished swallowing his meal. Feilan coughed as the charr finally pulled free of his muzzle, gasping for much-needed air.

He heard footsteps approaching as he knelt there on all fours, cum leaking from both ends. A paw rubbed the side of his muzzle, then grabbed a collar around his neck that he hadn't realized was there, pulling him up until his snout was inches from Melia's glistening folds. He could smell her heat again, much stronger than when he'd first caught a whiff of it at the tavern. His member throbbed--helping him realize that he'd been hard for quite some time without realizing--and a whimper escaped his muzzle despite himself.

"Aww, does the puppy want a treat?" Melia asked, giggling.

The resistance that had welled forth within him just a few seconds prior melted away as Feilan nodded. He yelped at a sudden, cold sensation against his cock, looking down to see the honey-furred mesmer holding an ice cube against it as it softened.

"Not quite yet, boy." She grasped his chin with her other paw, turning his gaze to the side. There were five charr there--not-Marcus, not-Spurius, and the auburn-furred charr he recognized, and then there were another two that he didn't. One was a striped, orange-furred female with dull, blue eyes. The other was black-furred and muscular, with a burgundy mane and a glint in his yellow eyes that could only be described as the look of a predator sizing up his prey. The well-built feline licked his lips as Felian locked eyes with him, then spread his legs to give the hunter a good look at the girthy member between his legs.

"If you're a good dog," Melia continued, "and treat the whole warband right like a good boy, then you'll get your treat." Her hand released the hunter's muzzle, and then the ice against his cock retreated, replaced a second later with the sensation of cool metal as something clicked around his softened member.

--

The next hour was a blur. The tiger-striped female was first, using his mouth to lube up a knotted dildo attached to a harness around her crotch, then coaxing him into riding it. She was the gentlest partner he'd had so far that night, her thrusts slower and more sensual, easing him along until she was able to bury the knot to the hilt. She pulled him closer to her as the knot popped in, drawing him into a long, deep kiss, and despite the cage trapping his cock, he came.

Once they'd gotten him off her strap-on, the striped feline had him clean up the mess he'd made before guiding his muzzle downward. Not-Marcus came for a second round while Feilan worshiped her. He wasn't quite as gentle, shoving the black-furred charr's muzzle deep into the other feline's mound while pounding away at the hunter's rear. She came on Feilan's face as he moaned into her crotch, bidding the hunter farewell with a gentle kiss to the top of his head as he panted amid the grey-furred charr's onslaught.

Not-Spurius came back next, slapping his cock across Feilan's face until the weary charr returned to reality long enough to open his maw. The thief's second orgasm came as quickly as his first, and unlike Feilan's earlier oral partners, the tan-furred charr opted to pull out first, chuckling as he painted the hunter's muzzle with ropes of white. Not-Marcus came shortly after and joined Not-Spurius's makeshift art project by painting Feilan's chest.

Feilan was grateful for the break as he lay there, his breathing heavy, mind in a lust-addled daze. He offered little resistance as someone--the auburn-furred charr, he dimly realized--flipped him onto his stomach. His break was cut short a moment later, the hunter yelping at a sudden weight on his back as the smaller charr male sat on top of him.

The feline on top of Feilan glanced back with a smirk. "You look a little out of it! Need a hand waking up, bitch?"

A sudden smack on his ass draw a half-yelp, half-meow from Feilan, which drew a few chuckles from throughout the room. Melia was one of them, leaning back in her chair and playing with herself again as her eyes bore into the hunter. "Strange," she said, "I've never heard a puppy meow before."

Another smack struck the hunter's other cheek. Feilan was somewhat ready for it and bit back his yelp this time. Melia frowned, and her disappointed eyes made it clear that she had expected a response.

A third smack. This time, despite the burning in his cheeks, Feilan barked. The room erupted with laughter--save for the striped female from earlier.

The hunter lost count of the hits as the auburn-furred charr continued to spank him, alternating back and forth between cheeks. The smaller feline eventually grew bored of dishing out such treatment and flipped Feilan onto his back again. Once more, the other charr sat on top of him, this time planting his balls right on top of the hunter's muzzle.

"Lick 'em, bitch."

Feilan did so, offering little resistance. Nor did he resist when the smaller charr adjusted his angle and shoved into the hunter's maw, facefucking him with rapid, energetic thrusts. "Yeah, take it!" the other charr shouted as he came, taking the time to smear the residual drops of cum on Feilan's snout as he pulled free.

Suddenly, the weight on Feilan's chest vanished, and he heard the smaller charr yelp as he was thrown across the room.

"My turn," the muscular, black-furred charr from earlier said. He lifted the hunter by his legs, lining up his thick member with the other charr's tailhole, and Feilan was thankful that his ass was at least somewhat lubed by the earlier loads he had taken. "Relax," the bigger charr said, "I'll try not to break you."

Feilan groaned as the larger male entered him--the other charr's cock felt even bigger than it looked.

"...Yet."

The hunter howled as the muscled charr took him in every sense of the word, their fur doing little to stop the sound of slapping flesh from ringing through the room. "Ah... uh... fu-- ahh!"

Feilan couldn't think, couldn't do anything but be swept away as every nerve in his tailhole screamed at his brain. He shuddered and trembled as his caged cock dribbled a second orgasm all over his stomach, then winced from overstimulation as the larger charr kept going, never once slowing down. If this was holding back, the hunter couldn't help but wonder what all-out felt like.

The only warning Feilan had of the larger charr's orgasm was a growl in his ear, and then another load was added under his tail. The muscled feline pulled free almost immediately and wasted no time in prying the hunter's maw open to give him a taste of his still-hard cock.

Feilan was too worn out, too far gone to care at this point. He had little energy left to give at this point, but this didn't seem to bother his partner, the larger charr content with just letting the hunter drool and choke around the thick cock in his muzzle.

--

At some point, the larger feline pulled free from Feilan's maw. The hunter leaned back, panting, and looked up at Melia.

The mesmer smiled at him. "That's a very good boy."

Feilan was dimly aware of his tail flipping back and forth.

Melia giggled. "Just a minute, pet. Your treat is almost ready."

The hunter tilted his head as the honey-furred feline stood up and let the muscled, black-furred charr take her seat. She sat down on his lap, gasping as the larger charr's paws guided her onto his rod. "Yeah, just like that, big guy," she whispered. A series of moans--not unlike the ones Feilan had been making a minute earlier--erupted from her as the larger male bounced her up and down on his cock.

A sudden tug on Feilan's leash pulled him up to the foot of the chair, landing his head straight between the two felines' legs, his senses overwhelmed with the scent, sight, and sound of what could only be described as a thorough mating. Melia howled as the larger charr bit the scruff of her neck. "Burn me, Therion, I'm not a cub! Now fuck me!"

The muscled charr snickered as he picked her up and stood from the chair, pulling her off his cock long enough to flip her around and throw her atop Feilan so her pussy was directly above his face. He leaned over her and thrust back in, pressing her down so that her breath washed over the hunter's cage, her body trembling atop him as the larger feline ravaged her like a wild beast.

Equal amounts of jealousy and relief washed over Feilan as the pair mated right above him, the female dripping onto him. Therion slammed into her with a roar, and then the larger male was dripping out of her and onto the hunter also.

Melia's haunches collapsed onto Feilan's face as soon as Therion pulled free. She ground her leaking pussy onto the hunter's muzzle.

"There you go. Now your treat's ready."

Feilan lapped at her folds, his tongue clumsy, though nobody in the room seemed to care.

"Welcome to the Wrath Warband, pup."